


We Die Like Heroes

by ericherries



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Anarchy, Betrayal, Chaotic Evil Dream, Dream Smp, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, MC betrays Tommy and Tubbo, MC rescues Wilbur from death, Major Character Injury, Major Dream SMP Spoilers, Nightmares, Original Character(s), POV First Person, Politics, Psychosis, Song Lyrics, Song: Devil Town (Cavetown), Wilbur isn't dead, almost major character death, i love schlatt actually, im a literal schlatt stannie hey now, mother mother references, schlatt is a dick, takes place after wilbur pushes the botton, there's one gendered metaphor but just ignore that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:54:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27618665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ericherries/pseuds/ericherries
Summary: L'manberg isn't the same anymore.Death stains the city. Wilbur knows this, so does Techno -  even Dream knows there's no more redemption for this mutilated place.I know it.Tommy stays blind to the terror he causes as their democracy stains the streets with ice blood. I cant let it happen anymore. I fight for my cause, hand in hand with my people.My daddy was an anarchist.NO LONGER BEING WRITTEN
Relationships: Wilbur Soot/Reader, Wilbur soot/original character
Comments: 8
Kudos: 49





	1. Sleep Awake

I've only been shielded from the horrors of war. I live in my tower, watching over the world below. I don't understand, I can help. Tommy has skills. He uses them everyday. He fights for the things he believes in: his disks, his land. I've seen the many handfuls of fights break loose because of him, but I cannot help, I cannot fight for their cause. Today is the day Schlatt will be thrown away, like a forgotten corner of the house, like a stone amongst the potholes of an old road. I watch as the people of L’manberg gather, fighting to take back their land and life from the mighty tower I stay. A grand coffin, standing tall amongst the broken city below. I scratch a pair of scissors against the mossy cobblestone of the window frame. 

Chained up. That's what I am. A princess in a tower, waiting for a prince to come rescue me. I only wish for rescue. He doesn't know how awful this is. I just want to help. I am not granted this simple wish, for I am too precious to them.

I guess you could say I’m Tommy's sibling, he acts like it at least. We’ve been friends since we were kids so I guess he thinks that. I stayed with him when he fought for L’manberg and when Pogtopia was created. I can’t fight though, so I would always stay behind and farm resources for the gladiators of the revolution, forced to sit in my little box as I watch the other’s battle, like a canary in a rotten little cage. There is no exception this time. I stare down at the area below me.

I can see everyone chase after Dream, swinging their swords thoughtlessly from left and right as if they were mere toys to be played with and not deadly weapons. I chuckle at the thought of myself wielding such gifts, the worst scenario uprooting itself from the back of my brain. I guess they’re just protecting me, but I can't help but feel the deepest guilt as Tubbo charges forward with no hesitance, heading what could be his literal demise. Surprisingly I see Wilbur approaching from the back of the battle moving towards Dream. They must have exchanged some secrets.

Schlatt’s an idiot, why must Dream be on his side? I’m all for supporting tyranny when the moment is right, but Schlatt doesn’t deserve his power anymore; he’s a pathetic man. Slowly the group approaches Wilbur’s “drug van”, I guess that's where the goat’s hiding, Dream must have ratted him out. Good.

He deserves it. Prick. 

As each person disappears inside I begin to lose interest. Tommy will just tell me about it later, whether I want to hear it or not. I begin to turn my feet away when I hear a loud cheer from behind me. I guess he’s dead already. My cold fingers reach towards the glass pane, pushing it shut and locking the bolt, I don’t notice the icy wind flooding my room until the rush of it suddenly stops. I feel no remorse for the previous president. L’manberg isn't even my city, why should I care? 

Shuffling across the floor of my so-called room, I lie down on the freezing stone that’s below my feet. I do not know how long minutes last anymore. Time doesn’t work when you’re always alone. Odd shapes start appearing before my eyes as the ceiling warps it’s form, I blink in surprise at seeing the images so suddenly. A large goldfish swims out of the wet paint, it swims up close to my face, its entire body now larger than my head. My door bursts open and the goldfish pops out of existence. Tommy steps into the room as I stand up, he grabs my arm and I’m rapidly pulled out of my peaceful daydream, I splutter questions as I’m dragged down the tower stairs.

“Tommy what the fuck?” 

He doesn’t reply. 

We descend, quickly reaching the bottom of the stairwell. I start to speak again but my words are whisked away from me as I see Tubbo standing at the top of the president’s podium. What?

“I don’t understand.” I say to Tommy as we reach a hold at the back of the audience.

“Shh, listen.” He replies.

I pick up some words before starting to zone out again. I didn’t expect Wilbur to hand off the presidency like that, but I guess it makes sense, Tubbo is the most reasonable candidate anyway. The words continue to pass by me as Tommy squeezes my shoulder in excitement. They do have a cute friendship don't they? It’s too bad they live here. Strangely the bright goldfish from earlier appears from behind my shoulder, my eyes follow its movements when I notice something strange. Wilbur. 

He’s leaving?

No one is noticing. 

Fuck. 

I scramble to my senses, realising the situation. Fuck. I glance at Tommy briefly before I turn away and run. My feet carry me as far as I can go. Biomes go by before I realise where exactly I am. Fuck. I turn around. L’manberg sits on the horizon. My eyes glaze over as the warm mushroom cloud envelops their city. I should go back. See who’s still alive.

My goldfish and I begin to trudge back to the city. The world is peaceful from out here. The trees have no leader. Even the creature beside me, a figment of my own mind just swims alongside me. No democracy or tyranny to plague it; only the sweet air to guide it ahead. We’re hiking along the dirt roads for hours before L’manberg starts to become more than just a smudge in the distance, I think. I count the seconds passing by, finding it cures the boredom of our trek. My feet grow a blister of stubborn agony, I guess you could say the same about my brain too. I pray that Wilbur is still alive; nothing good comes of a suicide bomber. I do hope Tubbo made it out okay too, he doesn’t deserve death by his dearly trusted. I’ve never once regarded Wilbur as anything more than a president, yet I find myself admiring the chaos of the act. The goldfish points it out to me - strange animal. 

A large crater dents the city before me. Tubbo standing in the middle, droplets of tears staining his face. My goldfish starts nudging me towards him before I notice, but he does.

“Oh my god!” He yells, bolting to my side. “I thought you were dead. Holy crap I’m so glad you’re alive.”

“Tubbo,” I begin to say,

“I-It was… Wilbur.”

“I know.”

A horrible silence floods the exchange between us.

“Tommy is okay.” He states.

“Good.” I pause, “Um.. is Wilbur alive?”

A look of quiet surprise fills Tubbo before he drops his head.

“No. Philza killed him.”

Thick poison fills my stomach hearing his words. Lips trembling, my goldfish nudges my hand but I push it away.

“Tubbo I’m going to sleep, I think… I wish you luck.”

“Thank you.”

I shuffle back towards the tower, hoping it wouldn’t be too damaged. My goldfish swims in front of me, halting my step. I try to shoo it away but it continues to push me back towards the crater. I sigh and turn around, clearly needing to see something back there. I walk past Tubbo once again, ignoring the slight confusion he emits at me. I see a small room built into the mountain blast open from the explosion, an ashy body lying in the corner. I assume Wilbur. My mind pleads with itself. I don’t want to see him right now. I can't. Please don’t make me. My goldfish pushes me harder now, urgent to get me to Wilbur’s side. Saline solution slowly overfilling my eyes the closer I get.

I climb into the room, my hands burning from the sensation of hot stone. Against my better judgement I step closer to Wilbur, my eyes refusing to meet him lying on the ground. My goldfish hovers to my right, waiting for me to get closer, it’s patient with me. I glance down. He’s lying on his side as blood pools out from under him. I choke at the sight of his life leaking from him. I kneel on the ground as a deathly silence suffocates me. My arm reaches out and I turn his body towards me, his eyes are glued shut and his lips loosely open. I let out a restrained cry, placing my head upon his gory chest. I hear my own heartbeat faintly pulse in my ears, slow and quiet. I cry hard against his body, wishing and praying to have him back. Moments pass before I begin to register what I had heard. I press my fingers to my neck - my pulse beats rapidly, my body still storing some of the adrenaline from earlier.

“W- Wilbur?” I whisper.

He groans. 

“WILBUR? Holy shit you’re alive.”

I press my hands on the stab wound Philza had left, trying to stop any more bleeding.

Holy fucking shit. He’s alive. I’ve got to keep him alive.

“Wilbur, can you speak to me?”

He splutters a little blood before opening his mouth to speak.

“Hi.”

He’s alive. 


	2. Angel's Weep

“I’ll lose my mind another one thousand times.” He mutters

Blood curses tarnish the streets. Empty vessels litter the city. I remember the day the forest burned, Tubbo’s house too. Wicked love leaks from their guns. It all seems like nothing to me anymore.

“Hold my hand tight.”

Wilbur and I lie amongst the grass, secrecy shielding our eyes from the devil’s misery. The guilt of betrayal leaves no more than a scratch on my mind. I do not regret what I did, Will knows that, nightmares walk among us after all.

My body aches. I have no idea where Technoblade is, or Dream. Hualing Wilbur out of that desecrated room without being noticed was… a challenge. I’m hiding behind the hills, hoping to stay unnoticed as I kneel over Wilbur. What am I supposed to do? I’ve tended many wounds before but this is too deep, and I don't have any supplies, Tommy would ask why I’m taking them from the tower. I can’t leave him to die - oh god - he can’t die. I feel helpless. He’s dying. I’m letting him die. 

I need to find someone trustworthy as soon as possible. My legs are weak, my arms are so tired. He needs to live. I take a deep breath as I place a gentle hand on Wilbur’s forehead, feeling an intense heat, my pulse rushes once again, I pull myself off the grass. Grabbing the diamond sword lying askew on the ground, I try to find the right words.

“Stay alive for me Will. I’ll be back.”

“...Okay.” he croaks.

Seconds pass before I realise I haven’t moved, I’m hesitant to leave him alone but I can’t help him by myself. How would I even begin to find Techno? It’s not illegal to ask after Dream, I’ll start there I guess.

My horrible ache continues as I walk past L’manberg, heading into Dream’s land. My hands begin to quake the deeper I go into his city, the people seem to ignore me though which adds a little reassurance to my frantic mind. The cold city of the Dream smp fuels the tense in my muscles, but I push myself further. Wilbur is waiting for me. Just a little more to go. Buildings pass by me, each one more dull and featureless than the last. I guess the disasters of war hit everyone as hard as an atomic bomb, some buildings are still charred and void of life - save for the rats. I grow impatient at the lack of Dream, almost ready to start burning the Church of Prime just to get his attention when I notice someone sitting at the bottom of the tall structure. Skeppy lies there, steady.

“Hello?”

His eyes turn to me, face blank.

“Uh, I’m looking for Dream..?”

I avoid eye contact with the man as he stares me down, heavily.

“...Why?”

“It’s, well, personal.”

“You’re mad.” He scoffs.

“At least that’s what they say.”

A slight smile appears on his lips before he nods.

“He’s in here.”

I nod my head in a silent thanks, before pushing the large door open. Deafening creaks fill the room as the wood splinters, making me shiver. I crane my neck to observe the top of the stairwell, hearing a faint set of footsteps somewhere above me. A wave of nausea suddenly comes over me, I try to breathe deeply but my lungs shake in fear. My goldfish floats beside me, mirroring my look of terror. I don’t even know what I’m going to say, but the image of Wilbur dying alone in that patch of tall grass fills me with a dread I would go to hell to fix. Trudging my heavy body up the stairs I think about what I’m going to say to Dream - I don’t even know if I can trust him yet. I don’t want anyone to catch us now. I’m going to say something dumb again. I practice the words in my head, slowly heading further up.

Dream whips his head towards me, a hand reaching for his sword. When did I even reach the top? My face pales, but he drops the hand after realising who I am. He’s wearing the mask, not even an inch of skin showing from behind it.

“H-hi.”

His head tilts a little.

“Um… Dream” I pause, trying to piece together the words in my head. “I need your help.”

He must have noticed my shaking hands by now.

“What with?”

“It’s Wilbur.”

He gasps quietly, taking a step closer, as if now interested in what I have to say.

“He’s alive, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

He laughs heartily, before grabbing my shoulder.

“Why isn’t he with you?”

I let out a quick breath before speaking again.

“He’s still heavily injured. I did the best I could but I have no supplies.” I can’t read Dream with his mask on. “Please, he might die soon.” My voice quivers as I speak. Dream’s hand falls from my shoulder, he walks past me, heading to the stairwell.

“Take me to him.”

The sternness in his voice shocks me, almost making me jump. Instantly, I speed down the stairs, desperate to reach Wilbur once again, this time with Dream by my side.  
  
  


I watch Dream study Wilbur. His chest heaves and I can hear the wheeze in his breath. Stubborn panic suffocates me blindly, I can't stand this terror much longer, it’s whispers hurt me. The antagonising pain of the wait looms around us, my goldfish hovers, this moment solidifies itself into my mind. Stale smells of decay stain the air, stinging my senses, bringing salt moisture in my soul. I watch as Dream works, delicate fingers spindling bandages around him like a spider trapping it’s prey.

“How is he?” I ask hesitantly.

“Good enough for now, would have been dead if not for you though.” I sigh.

“I cannot thank you enough.”

“...I need him too, you know.”

“I know.”

Abruptly, Dream stands and begins to wipe the blood off his hands, into his trouser legs. I cringe at that but keep silent. He starts preparing his bag for the journey back, when a sudden thought pops into my mind.

“Wait!”

He stops moving.

“He can’t stay with me.”

Dream turns to face me and I lose a portion of my resolve.

“Tommy will kill him.”

I drop my head, scared to look at him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take him.”

Relief pulls my head upwards and I look into Dream’s eyes for the first time.

“Thank you. Will you be okay getting back alone? I’d advise sticking to shadows for now. No one can know he’s alive until he gets better.”

Dream laughs quietly, confusing me.

“I know, we’ll be fine. Go back to Tommy, he’ll be worried.”

He hands me a cloth, I furrow my eyebrows.

“Your hands.” He states, making me look down. I’m a little taken aback at the dried blood coating my fingers, I somehow forgot it was there. I scrub the colour off my hands quietly, my skin looking raw and red after. I hand the cloth back to him.

Nodding politely, I excuse myself. With my back turned, Dream continues to pack his bag, Wilbur breathing steadily on the floor. I take a deep breath and start walking. The idea of an excuse didn’t quite occur to me until my goldfish swam ahead of me, making me stop in my tracks. My mind is exhausted and I’m unable to think of such a thing. I feel little hands reach into my brain and pluck out a word. Safety. I’ll just say I wasn’t sure if it was safe to return - that will be good enough. My goldfish continues swimming towards the tower, pulling me along with its fins, and soon enough, I reach the building.

Swinging open the door carelessly, I enter. I hear a pounding set of footsteps thunder down the stairs, my eyes blink slowly.

“Where the hell were you?!” Tommy yells, worsening the headache starting to consume me.

“Safe.”

“What does that mean?” He asks dramatically.  
  
“Wasn’t sure if it was safe to come back.” My words begin to slur, the toll of today bringing it’s thunder onto me. I hear Tommy sigh.

“You know L’manberg is colder in the summertime. Go get some sleep.” He says, I gladly take up his offer. Time passes and I’m in a bed. They say dreams reflect your subconscious psyche but I’ve never understood it, as my dreams are always gibberish and thoughtless, but as I realise I’m sitting in a battlefield I realise the truth to the statement. Wilbur lays beside me, as smart as the day I met him. My finger twists around the curls of his hair. I barely notice Tommy crying into my arm. Wilbur’s silent eyes pull me deeper in. I see reflections of a goldfish in them, glossy and blank.

Blank?

My vision trails it’s way down his body, but I cannot move myself away when I see the blood rot. Screams fill my lungs but leave my throat no more than a whisper. My goldfish swims out of Wilbur’s wound, leaving a horrific, gaping hole in his abdomen. Another whimper of a howl leaves me at the sight. The goldfish stares at me with blood eyes, its mouth drooping open.

“We’re fine; no one’s going to catch us now.” 

I blink awake. A tiny goldfish lies squirming on my bed sheets near my foot. Silently, I watch it writhe in misery, I watch as it reaches a stop. There's a dead fish on my bed. Gently, I scoop it up, and bring it to the bathroom. A silent wish to bring it back to me fills my head, I place the corpse back into the water tank and let it swim away.

Pulling open the curtains to the tower window, I realise the severity of what I did. Yesterday’s battlefield is no longer solid ground, and I rescued the man who brought L’manberg to its knees. Its creator, its destroyer: Wilbur Soot. I think of yesterday and I find no regret in me. I find worry and fear and pain, but no regret. Wilbur deserves to live, I do not care what I’m told, how I’m told to think of him. No longer will I let them run their selfish democracy. I still get a little scared of something new, but I feel a little safer when I'm with him.

I start walking out of the bedroom, dragging myself forward. Tommy sits on his chair in his kitchen. I smile at him briefly, a greeting I suppose. He nods silently in return. I begin to sit across from him when he finally speaks.

“Slept well?”

Something feels stale, but I don't care.

“Yeah.”

“You almost slept all day.”

“Oh.”

Tommy and I both look up at the clock hanging from the wall, 7:25pm, I really did sleep all day. I glance back at him, noticing a small twist of disgust in his face. Looking back at the clock, I quickly recall how we got it; Wilbur gave it to us when Tommy had finished building this tower. I smile at his act of kindness, Tommy, on the other hand, looks at it with hate in his heart but I don’t argue.

“I’m sorry.” I say before standing up. “Won't do it again. Do you have any letter paper?”

“Letter paper? What for?”

“Niki. You’re not the only one with friends.”

“Why don’t you just go see her?”

“You don’t appreciate the gesture of a handwritten letter I see.” 

“I guess not. There’s some in my room.”

“I’ll go get it. Thanks.” I quickly step away, feeling my energy draining from lying to him. I let out a breath before heading to his room. Quiet footsteps echo throughout the long hallway, the pads of my feet touching the cool stone sends ice shivers into my blood, the closer I get to Tommy’s room the colder my bones feel. Gently, I push the spruce door open, letting it fall away from me. A shiver shoots up my spine as a gust of sharp wind rushes past me. Stepping into the room, my eyes search for the paper, Spotting it in the furthest corner of the room, I walk past the open window and start collecting pages, gathering them in my arms. I snatch an envelope from the small table and retrace my steps, shutting the tired door behind me. Returning to the room with the paper I collected, I let it fall over the table to the left. Grabbing the ink from the side I bring it closer and I dip my pen in and begin writing.

Time passes. I don’t know how long exactly, but by the time I realise I’ve filled a page I hear the door at the start of the hallway open and close, Tommy I think. He walks past the room I’m in, I let my shoulders drop a little. I begin to read my letter back to myself at a quiet whisper, checking for mistakes.

“Hi there,

I don’t suppose you mind me visiting at some point. Perhaps tonight even, if this letter reaches you in time that is. I would love to see him, I hope he’s feeling a little better too, he does tend to get sick a lot right? I’m going to visit the same place as last time I think, if we could meet there it would be a wonderful night. I do have to be careful though, you never know who might read these letters. I think I’m going to join you, and him of course. Something about this tower I sleep in doesn’t appeal to me anymore. I want to join you but I will only go when needed. This could be helpful right? I don’t understand-”

“Hey!” Tommy kicks the door open in a flash, making me jump in fright, panic overcoming me quickly as I realise I haven't sealed the envelope yet. 

“What?” I mutter angrily. 

“I don’t know, I’m bored, let’s go help Tubbo.”

“I’m busy.”

“With your letter? Fine.” He slams the door like a sulking child and I roll my eyes. I fold the paper in half delicately, placing it into the first envelope. I swap the pen into my left hand, dipping it into the ink, and once again I begin to stain the paper with an obsidian brand. I start to write Dream’s address. Waiting for the colour to dry, I slowly pour the letter wax on the back and seal it shut with a stamp. I place the envelope into another and scribble Niki’s address onto it. I look at the letter carefully one last time, examining it. With a nervous breath, I start moving down the stairs, carrying myself all the way to the deep red mailbox. I look to the right and see Fundy patrolling through L’manberg quietly, a silent dread filling my heart at the sight. Hidden by the large mailbox, my hands start to fiddle with the envelope, ripping the outer layer away and casting the ripped paper into the box. I glance up at the tower behind me, spotting someone standing at the middle window.

They stare down at me and my breath is stolen from my lungs.

I throw Dream’s letter into the box and rush back into Tommy’s tower. Sprinting into the foyer, I hear Tommy yell from upstairs. I dash up the metal boards as my breath pushes past my lips in a frenzy. The steps above me seem to stretch for miles. The further I run the harder it is to move my muscles. My legs are close to giving out by the time I grasp the top railing. 

Tommy is standing at the top. He’s waiting for me. The look on his face makes me tremble. It’s accusatory. I can't think. My mind becomes a void as he stares me down. I can’t even remember my own name. My eyes blink rapidly, wishing the tears not to fall. He knows. I can’t look at him anymore. I stumble backwards, feeling the sensation of falling overtake me. I scramble to stop myself, horror stinging in my fingers. I must have cried out loud.

Angels weep in a desolate church. The dead person’s chorus screams in my ears. Why must we dance? Our bodies turn and choke in graves, throttling the soil in our bitter grip. Schlatt stands before me now and I feel myself kneel. Waves of hard liquor radiate off of him. I turn my head up.

“Where do we go from here?” His voice is deeper than normal and course, as if he hadn’t used it in years. “Where do the dying go if the dead don’t want them?” 

“We live.” I mutter, throwing venom in the words. 

“It feels the same as yesterday.” He begins to drift, circling around me. “Tied up and branded.” He hovers to my left, I follow his movements, “Locked in a cage.” He walks directly in front of me and grasps my chin, tilting it up.

“You’re breaking my city.”

“Because I can.”

A hard slap to my cheek rips tears out of my eyes. I feel ice shards scratch my skin, his flesh like stone. I touch the spot he hit and feel an intense heat, my skin burns, melting into the cesspool of dirt below me. Schlatt leans in close to my face, I sit still as his mouth nears my ear. A thrumming in my skull starts to build, his terrible silence threatening me stiff. Feeling the piercing icy breath hit my outer ear, I quiver. My heart batters my ribs while I wait for his words. Just as I think he’s about to speak-

He shrieks.

My whole body wails in nightmarish despair. His demonic howl deafens me. I start to convulse, limbs launching themselves away from him in jerkish movements; cries spill from my mouth as the dead surround me. Rot and decay stain me, their life dribbling onto me, onto my skin. He does not stop screaming. Like a dying banshee, he cries. He does not stop. The moment lasts and lasts and it does not end; nothing is stopping his cries, the bodies crawling towards us do not stop the blaring volume; I beg and plead for quiet. I can't hear anythgign else, i ve fforgtottten everything. ssschlatt’s dead im dead

i can't think

**Author's Note:**

> ty for reading!!
> 
> see yall in a couple months bc i’m a depressed WHORE
> 
> or never idk


End file.
